


To An Unpredictable Future

by sociallychallengednerd



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Drunken Confessions, Erotic Handholding, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Canon Cardassia, Post-Episode: s05e16 Doctor Bashir I Presume, or at least the epilogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:47:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23574097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sociallychallengednerd/pseuds/sociallychallengednerd
Summary: Garak has always been an odd one, but after an incident late one night, after Julian escorts a rather drunk Cardassian home, Julian is left to puzzle over Garak’s latest oddity. Could it just be Garak being Garak? Or is he trying to tell the Doctor something?
Relationships: Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Comments: 22
Kudos: 196





	1. Chapter 1

Julian’s eyes started to go hazy staring down as his PADD for so long. He blinked hard setting the PADD down and scrubbing a hand over his face. It was getting late, and he really should be getting home and to bed. His shift had ended over an hour ago, but Julian had hoped that he could knock out some paperwork. It didn’t look like all that much was going to get done now though. He’d read the same line three times without actually taking anything in. No, it was time he put it away and headed to bed. There was only so long he could avoid his quarters, and the more time he spends there the more it will feel like his again and not the changling’s. So he kept telling himself at least. 

“Quark to Dr. Bashir.” 

If this was about another bar fight Julian thought he might cry. 

“Bashir reporting.”

“Doctor, can you please come collect Garak? He’s starting to scare away my other customers.” 

Garak, at Quark’s? Granted he had been through considerable trauma as of late, and Garak had been known to indulge in a few more glasses of kanar than he probably should when times are hard, but usually he loathed to drink at Quark’s. He despised making a spectacle of himself. The only time he’d seen Garak have more than a single glass at Quark’s was when his implant had been killing him, and that was because he hadn’t thought he would be alive long enough to have to worry about his image. Julian couldn’t imagine what had gotten into him now, but he certainly wasn’t going to ignore this. 

“I’ll be right there.”

XXXX

Julian paused in the doorway of Quark’s his eyes falling on Garak sitting hunched over the bar, his hands wrapped around a kanar bottle in front of him his face set in a particularly morose expression. For a cold awful moment it was like looking back in time. 

“Finally,” Julian resisted the urge to jump. He hadn’t noticed Quark slid up beside him his attention fixed so firmly on Garak. “He showed up an hour or two ago already drunk demanding a bottle of my least offensive kanar and has been glowering at the bar ever since. He’s scaring away my other customers.” 

“Your concern is touching.” Julian scowled down at the Ferengi.

“Just see to it that he gets to his quarters.” Quark shook his head wandering off back behind the bar. Julian supposed that for him that was concern. 

Julian made his way over quietly taking in the details carefully: the charcoal flush to the scales of his ridges, the slight blue tint to his visible dossent, the way Garak was ever so slightly listing to the left in his seat. He got about two meters (precisely 1.65 actually) before Garak’s head snapped up to look at Julian. There was a haziness to his usually clear blue eyes. 

“Ah, Doctor, what a pleasure.” There was a small smile pulling at the corners of his lips, but it was soft and genuine, lacking in the carefully charming geniality that Garak so often cloaked himself in. “Would you care to join me?” He gestured to the seat next to him and Julian allowed himself to slide in beside him.

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough for one night?” 

Garak gave a distasteful sniff as he took another defiant sip from his glass. “I’m perfectly capable of deciding for myself when I’ve had enough.”

“Uh huh, do you really want to be seen drinking with the night crowd at Quark’s? Why don’t you let me walk you back to your quarters, you drink a big glass of water, and then you sleep this off for a bit? What do you say?” 

Garak gives him a serious searching stare before sighing in that way that he does to let Julian know that he thinks he’s being frustrating and unreasonable. “Very well. Quark waters down his kanar anyway.” 

Garak leaned against the bar as he stood. He didn’t stumble, or wobble, or anything so obvious as that, but his movements were slow and deliberate in a way that let Julian know just how much Garak has likely had to drink. Silently he extended an arm offering it out to his friend. Garak stared at the offending limb for a quiet beat before wordlessly sliding his arm through Julian’s. Arm in arm they walked out of Quarks and to the habitat ring. Julian didn’t think he had ever walked this close to Garak before. It was tempting to lean in, but Julian resisted contenting himself with the way their shoulders brushed with every step. Garak didn’t lean heavily on Julian, but occasional his grip tightened like he was trying to reorient his balance. Julian kept their pace slow letting Garak take his time and enjoying the silent company as they walked. 

Once they reached Garak’s hall Julian broke the silence. 

“Next time you’re in a mood, you could come to me. Better than drinking alone at least.” 

Maybe it was a useless gesture. Garak didn’t willingly make himself vulnerable in front of others, or at least not usually. Julian could still hardly believe Garak had let him in as much as he had, to let Julian see so much of himself during the mess with the wire and then again with Tain in the camp. He’d entrusted him with his secrets, and Julian could think of no higher compliment from someone like Garak. And the thought of Garak grieving alone, dealing with everything that had happened alone with a bottle left an uneasy feeling in his stomach. Julian wished he knew some way he could be there for him. 

Garak shook his head waving him off with a hand. “You have plenty of your own worries. You don’t need to be bothered with mine.” 

He didn’t get it. Garak was only in that camp a fraction of the time Julian was, and still he was the only one that could understand. If anyone could understand how he felt right now, Julian thought it might be Garak. 

“Hey,” Julian said in mock indignation, “personally I rather like having someone there to wallow in misery with me.” 

They stopped as they came to Garak’s door. Garak stood facing him an implacable expression on his face: eyes soft and searching, eye ridges raised, mouth pursed into a thin line. Julian moved to slide his arm out of Garak’s to step away, put a reasonable amount of space between them, Julian reminded himself, but Garak’s hand caught his and stopped him. His eyes were on Julian’s hand now as he turned it over in his hands, cool fingers tracing the lines of his palm and up the length of his fingers. For a surreal moment Julian almost thought Garak might start reading his palm or something; the thought had a near hysterical laugh bubbling in his throat. It was a strange moment, that stole the air from his lungs. He didn’t really know what was happening here, but there was the feeling that this was important that kept Julian silent. 

“You have very nice hands.” Garak’s voice was soft, but it seemed too loud in the quiet of that empty hallway. “Strong, but gentle. A surgeon’s hands, capable hands.” 

His eyes finally lifted to Julian’s again, and he found himself pinned in place by those eyes. The air between them was charged, electric, in a way that had Julian’s traitorous heart racing. After a moment he dropped his hand stepping back that charming, enigmatic smile on his lips and glint in his eyes. 

“Good night, my dear Doctor.” Then he was gone, the door sliding shut behind him leaving Julian alone in the hall. 

It felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room, like a hull beach had pulled the air from his very lungs. Julian kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, that Garak would pop his head back out and say something cheeky and cryptic. But the hallways remained empty. Julian could only stand there for a long moment, the ghost of Garak’s touch lingering on his palm wondering what had just happened. His hands had been so soft.

XXXX

Julian tried to put the odd exchange out of his mind, after all, Garak had always been a bit of an odd one. He was such a cryptic and mysterious man, everything he did seeped in hidden meanings and significance. Could it really be so simple as Garak being, well, Garak? Julian didn’t know, but the thought had kept him up much of the night. As much as he would like to brush it off as nothing he couldn’t. There had been a tension in the air, a look in Garak’s eyes, a significance in the carefully deliberate way that Garak had moved his hands. That morning he’d taken the long way around to the infirmary so that he didn’t walk Garak’s shop. He wasn’t quite ready to face him this second, not until he had a better idea of just what last night was. 

It took him embarrassingly long to think of it, but in his defense Julian had having a hard time thinking about anything aside from the incident itself. There had been a scene in Meditations on a Crimson Moon that had perplexed Julian. Iliya and Rejess had met for a final time before Rejess was deployed in a war that he knew would mean his death and Iliya married the man her family had chosen for her. Julian had found the whole thing rather depressing, much to Garak’s frustration. Garak insisted it was one of the most romantic scenes in Cardassian literature. Julian had found that hard to believe. It hadn’t seemed all that much different that any of their other meeting through the book, but now Julian thought about Iliya reaching her hand across the table to take Rejess’s, how tightly they had held onto each other while otherwise carefully ignoring what they knew to be the last time they would speak. How very Cardassian. 

The more he thought about it the more he came up with: Tram and Ishas in the Never Ending Sacrifice, Timlin and her Mother in Kondel Fields, Iloja of Prim’s poetry about his lover. Now that he noticed Julian couldn’t stop noticing how often the great emotional scenes in Cardassian literature seemed to culminate with the touch of a hand. Now Julian was sure that there was more going on here than he knew. 

Julian found himself glancing at the time every few minutes. It was ten minutes past when he usually took his lunch, but he couldn’t shake the thought that if he went to the replimat now he might run into Garak. He would be charming and cordial, of course, like he always was, but it would be that plastic, artificial kindness that Julian had too often seen him use on customers or Captain Sisko. Garak might offer Julian an apology for his intoxication the night before, he might ignore what had happened all together, either way Julian wasn’t ready to sit down across from his friend and have Garak brush off whatever it was that had happened last night, not until he properly knew what it was that had happened. 

An hour and a half after his usual lunch break Julian finally left the infirmary. He just needed to buy himself a couple more days to think, to go over all the books they had read together in his head, their conversation, anything that might tell him what was going on. He’d already reviewed the first two and a half years worth of their readings, but there was nothing that told him exactly what he was looking for yet. 

Julian faltered as he neared the replimat dark hair and grey scales catching his eyes, but he eased as he noticed Ziyal seated in the back corner on her own. It was impulse that had Julian turning and heading in her direction. 

“Ziyal, is this seat taken?” Her head lifted from her PADD a smile on her lips. 

“Of course not, please sit. If you’re looking for Garak I’m afraid you just missed him.” 

“Oh, no,” Julian couldn’t help glancing over a shoulder half expecting to see Garak watching him from the other side of the replimat, but there was no sign of him. He took the seat across from her. “No, I wasn’t looking for Garak.” 

Suddenly an idea seemed to pop into his mind. “Actually, I was hoping you might be able to help me.”

She cocked her head in that very Cardassian way that Garak always did when Julian had forced him to reevaluate his argument. “With what?”

“There was a part in the most recent book that Garak lent me that I’m not sure I really understand. I think there’s some cultural context that I’m missing, and I was hoping to clear them up before I meet with Garak to discuss it.” 

“I’m afraid I’m not nearly as well read as Garak and yourself, but I’ll help you however I can.”

“There was a moment in the book were the characters took each other’s hands. I know that Cardassians press their hands together in greeting, but I wondered if there was a significance outside of that.”

Ziyal shook her head setting his PADD down to the side. “I think you misunderstand. It’s not just a Cardassian greeting, not like Humans shaking hands at least. Humans will shake hands with a complete stranger, but a Cardassian would never press hands with someone they weren’t already close friends with.”

Julian supposed that made sense. “So then it’s a symbol of close friendship.”

“It can be. Hands are considered intimate. It could mean anything from close friendship to much more than that.”

“Oh,” Julian let that thought sink in. He thought of the way Garak had looked at him last night with those clear blue eyes that seemed to stare straight through him. “How do you tell the difference then?”

“Time mostly. A beat or two between friends, a minute between family, but anything longer than that would have romantic connotations.” There was a tight cold feeling starting to knot up Julian’s gut. “There’s also the placement of hands. Interlocking fingers or lingering touches outside of pressing hands is almost always romantic.” 

The feeling was starting to grow, moving up from his gut and into his throat now.

“I hope that helped.”

Julian forced a smile nodding with maybe too much vigor if the dubious look on Ziyal’s face was anything to go by. “Yes, thank you. That helped a lot. I should really get going though. I have work to get back to.” 

Julian didn’t wait for a reply. He got up and hurried out of the replimat, lunch forgot, heading back to the safety of the infirmary. So Garak hadn’t been making some grand gesture of friendship then. Romantic. Garak had romantic feelings for him. Julian probably shouldn’t have found that so surprising really. He knew from Miles that Cardassians found argument flirtatious, and Garak and him certainly flirted. Still, Julian hadn’t thought too much of it. Some people were just naturally flirtatious, Jadzia for example. He hadn’t really thought Garak meant anything by it. Afterall it had been some four years and nothing had ever come of it. Sure, maybe sometimes Julian would wonder about it, but he had long since put it out of his mind as something unreasonable. Now… Well, Julian wasn’t sure what to think now. 

Why now though, Julian had to wonder. Was it a response to trauma? A way to cope with the grief of losing Tain? No, before arriving at that camp Garak had already thought Tain dead. Maybe it was the start of the war in earnest, but that didn’t sound like Garak. Maybe with Cardassia in league with the Dominion and Dukat in charge Garak saw any hope of returning home gone. Or maybe he hadn’t thought it through at all; maybe he’d been just a bit too drunk and acted a little more honestly than he meant. Could that be it? Julian couldn’t say for sure. He didn’t think he’d ever really be able to claim with any certainty why Garak always did the things he did. 

Tomorrow he was supposed to have lunch with Garak. Julian felt sick at the thought. There was no way he could cancel, not without sending a very clear message to Garak, one that he very much didn’t want to send. So he just had to get his thoughts all in order, decide how to respond, and decide what to say all before tomorrow. Perfect. Julian might actually be sick. 

Jabara kicked him out of the infirmary with four hours still left to his shift ordering him to get some rest and get his head on straight before he hurt himself. Which was probably fair; so Julian carefully put away his thing, packed up, and headed straight to Jadzia’s quarters. 

XXXX

Julian tapped his hand against his thigh pacing back and forth in front of the door. He’d rang the chime, but there hadn’t been any response. At five laps pacing her door Julian was ready to admit defeat. Maybe he could ask the computer where Jadzia was? Just because she wasn’t in her quarters didn’t mean she would automatically be too busy to talk. 

The sound of the door opening had Julian swinging around his shoulders slumping with relief at the sight of Jadzia standing in the doorway. She frowned looking him over with apparent concern. 

“Julian? What’s wrong? Did something happen? I wasn’t commed.” He must look worse than he thought. 

Julian shook his head. “Nothing happened, well, not nothing, but nothing happened to the station. To me, yes. Things are a mess, and I don’t know what to do, and you’re the only person I could think to ask for help with this-“

“Julian,” Jadzia cut him off, “breath.” 

Julian nodded taking a deep breath. Jadzia hair was down and messy falling over her shoulder when she frowned at him, Julian couldn’t say it was a sight he had seen before. Now that he was looking Julian noticed that her com badge was askew and her uniform partially unzipped. 

“Now, what exactly happened that has you so worked up?”

“Am I interrupting something?” Julian asked tentatively. “I can leave.”

Jadzia gave him a pensive look glancing over her shoulder back into her quarters. “How urgent is this, exactly?”

“I think Garak did the Cardassian equivalent of drunkenly making out with me.”

“That urgent, huh?” Jadzia inclined her head eyebrows threatening to disappear into her hairline. “Alright, come on in.” 

She stepped back ushering Julian into her quarters. Worf stood beside the couch his own hair unbound giving Julian a look that was either anger or his usual stern, frustrated disapproval. It was hard for Julian to tell. He pursed his lips looking past Julian to Jadzia. 

“I suppose this means I am to be kicked out?” 

“Yup,” Jadzia stepped past him to Worf leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek, the frustration in his face turning to something softer. “It’s urgent.” 

They shared a long, significant look Julian couldn’t begin to interpret. He wondered if that was just something all couples knew how to do after dating for a while. Then he thought of the times when Garak wouldn’t even respond to something he’d said, rather just give him a look that Julian could full well understand. Julian quickly put the thought out of his mind. Now wasn’t the time to be thinking like that. 

“Very well, but we are still having dinner later.” Worf conceded. 

“Of course.” Jadzia gave him a wide smile. 

He stepped past Julian with a perfunctory nod on his way out, the door shutting behind him with a quiet hiss. Jadzia was on him in an instant, taking Julian’s hands and leading him over to the couch to sit next to her. 

“Alright, now, tell me exactly what happened.” 

She rested an arm over the back of the couch leaning her head against her hand. Julian just sighed slumping down into the couch as he began to recount the night. 

XXXX

“Garak really did that?” Jadzia asked looking gleefully scandalized. Julian just nodded glumly slumped back into the couch sipping at his spring wine she had replicated for him halfway through his story. “Who would have pegged Garak as the romantic type?”

Julian’s gave an undignified snort setting down his glass. “Garak’s always been a hopeless romantic. He just hides it under all his pessimism.”

“Well,” Jadzia raised an eyebrow. “You would be the one to know.”

Julian pulled himself out of the couch to sit up. “I hope it goes without saying that this is just between us. No one else can know.”

“Oh, of course not. I wouldn’t tell a soul.” Jadzia said with jocular solemnity mining zipping her lips. “Not until you’re together at least, then I get to be the first one with the inside story.”

He turned in his seat to look at Jadzia aghast. “Jadzia, we’re not going to be together.”

That seemed to get her attention. She sat down her own glass on the coffee table her face twisted in confusion and concern. 

“What are you talking about? You have feelings for him, don’t you?”

“I-,” Julian gaped trying to find his words. “Of course I have feelings for him.” His voice cracked. Julian scrubbed a hand down his face. He was tipsy, and emotional, and everything was a mess. “He’s- Well, he’s Garak. He was my first friend on this station, and we’ve been through so much, and- and I love him.” Julian pursed his lips to stop his traitorous lip from wobbling. He wiped the beginnings of tears from his eyes. 

“Julian,” Jadzia’s voice was soft as she slid closer wrapping an arm over his shoulders pulling him in closer into her side. “I don’t understand. Wouldn’t now be the best time for this to happen? You’re not hiding the secret of your augments anymore, and now Garak has started working with Starfleet intelligence on Cardassian encryptions.”

Julian shook his head throwing off Jadzia’s arms as he stood to pace agitated. 

“You don’t get it. It’s not that simple. There are more eyes on me than ever now that people know about my enhancements, and just because Garak is working with Starfleet doesn’t mean that they trust him. He’s still an ex Obsidian Order operative. Starfleet doesn’t believe they really have his loyalty,” Julian gave a bitter laugh, “and they’re right.

“Tain’s gone and Dukat is in charge, and Garak’s exile is increasingly looking to be permanent, but if that ever changed…” Julian trailed off shaking his head. “If that ever changed, if he had the opportunity to go home, he would leave. In a heartbeat. Whether we were together or not. And, I couldn’t even blame him for it. He’s always made it very clear that Cardassia comes first, no matter what. I can’t do that.”

“It sounds like you already have your mind made up.” Jadzia gave him a sad look, but it wasn’t one of pity, rather understanding. This was why he’d come to her over anyone else. She understood likely better than anyone what it was like to love and to lose. 

“Then why do I still feel so awful?” Tears were falling freely down Julian’s face now. 

“Come here,” Jadzia stood from the couch pulling Julian into a tight hug. “Just because you’ve decided what you have to do that doesn’t make it any easier.” Julian buried his face against her shoulder letting out a broken sob. 

XXXX

By the next day Julian wouldn’t say he was feeling better exactly, but he was resolved. Saying it all out loud to Jadzia had only cemented it in his mind. This was for the best really. Nothing could happen between Garak and him. If Julian just so happened to spend last night rereading Meditations of a Crimson Moon, well, that was no one’s business but his. 

He did his best to keep his mind off his impending lunch date. The harder he thought about it the more of a nervous wreck he would be when he showed up. Luckily for him the infirmary was busy today; nothing fatal, and nothing he couldn’t fix, but it did have him running five minutes late to his lunch break. Once things were cleaned up Julian had practically ran out of the infirmary towards the replimat. The last thing he wanted was Garak to think that Julian had blown him off. No, that wasn’t the impression he wanted to give. 

Julian let out a sigh a relief at the sight of Garak seated at their usual table. He hadn’t give Julian up then. He watched Garak’s eyes scan the promenade, searching and concerned. Garak’s eyes fell on Julian his shoulders ever so slightly releasing as he sat up a bit straighter a look of tentative hope on his face. Just like that the nerves were back in full force, a riot of butterflies in Julian’s stomach. He forced a smile of his own as he made his way to the table. 

“Sorry I’m late, the infirmary was busy.” Julian took a seat at the table keenly feeling Garak’s eyes on him. 

“Nothing dire I hope.” 

“No, Miles just dislocated his shoulder again. A few other routine, easily treated injuries.”

Garak nodded but didn’t respond. They lapsed into a tense silence Garak picking through his food while Julian fidgeted with his tea. Garak was the first to break the silence. 

“Doctor, I feel I owe you an apology-“

“Don’t, don’t apologize for that.” Julian cut him off. He’d half expected Garak to avoid the topic all together. He was surprised that he would be the first one to bring it up.

Julian watched Garak flounder for a moment, obviously not sure what to say in response. Carefully, Julian reached a hand across their small table to place a hand atop Garak’s. There was a rising, tentative hope in his eyes as Garak stared down at their hands. 

“I’ve been rereading Meditations on a Crimson Moon.” Garak’s left their hands now to meet Julian’s eyes, and he watched as the tentative hope was replaced with melancholy understanding. “I think I understand it better now, appreciate it more.”

Garak gave him a sweet, sad smile that made Julian wish he could pull him closer, that he could have more than just this press of hands. Instead he squeezed his hand tighter, his thumb tracing circles against soft, cool scales. Garak turned his hand over so they were pressed palm to palm. 

“I still think it was terribly sad though.” Julian’s throat felt tight and choked. 

“Rejess and Iliya loved each other. They loved each other enough to walk away from something that could have hurt them both. The end to their relationship might not have been a happy one, but they will always carry with them the happier memories they shared, because of that their story could never truly be a sad one.” 

Julian gave him a sad wobbly smile that Garak returned with the sweet, soft look he reserved just for him. He should leave the conversation there, change the subject, just sit here and enjoy this last bit of closeness, but Julian has never been very good at leaving well enough alone. 

“Do you think things could have been different?” There was surprise on Garak’s face, and Julian rushed to explain. “With Iliya and Rejess, if he hadn’t died and she hadn’t married someone else do you think there ever could have come a point in the future where they could have been together?” 

“Things would have to change a great deal for that to happen.” There was a cautious look on Garak’s face. 

Julian shrugged one shoulder. “Who’s to say how the future will play out.”

A smile creeped across Garak’s lips. He grabbed his tea in his free hand holding out to Julian. “To an unpredictable future then.”

Julian returned the grin grabbing his own mug to toast Garak, their other hands never parting. “To a better future.”


	2. Epilogue

It was a privilege as much as it was a burden to watch Cardassia rebuild from its ashes, to be there with his own hands in the rubble building his home back up again. Things were improving now. Garak had cleared out the rubble and rebuilt Tain’s house. It was no longer the mansion it had been, simply a modest house, but it suited Garak just fine. 

More importantly he had his garden. After spending so long in space it was good to have his hands in the dirt once again. He didn’t grow flowers, those could come later, eventually. Garak grew fruits, and vegetables, and herbs to help supplement his own diet along with those in the neighborhood. Things might have improved, but food scarcity and malnutrition was still an issue. Cardassia’s remaining colonies were over taxed trying to provide for themselves and the home world, and aid was not to be counted on. 

Garak had never expected much in the way of aid after the war. Cardassia had picked the wrong side, and there was a price to pay for losing. He had been more surprised that Starfleet had provided aid at all. Bashir had been furious, he remembered. They didn’t write or speak often anymore. There was a distance between them, had been since long before Garak’s ill conceived confession, and it was not easily overcome. But they did still talk about safe topics occasionally, both loathing the idea of drifting away so completely. They talked about Cardassia; about literature, though their conversations were sadly much more amiable now; about new things in Bashir’s life; old memories. Garak remembered how Bashir had raved about the inequity of Starfleet’s distribution of aid. It was kind of him, Bashir always was so intolerably kind. 

Garak pushed the thoughts of the good doctor out of his mind. He didn’t have the luxury of getting lost in memories; he had a job to do. His assistant Niyak had informed him that the Federaji civilian aid group would be here today, two full days ahead of schedule. Inconvenient, but not an issue. After all Cardassia owed a great deal to civilian organizations that had sent help after the war; with Starfleet’s rather lacking response most of the aid they received had been from civilian groups. Who was Garak to complain about help coming sooner than expected? What was that quaint Terran saying about looking at the mouth of a horse? As he was to understand there were even a handful of doctors on board, something Cardassia was still woefully short of. He would just have to assign Pralla to be their guide instead of Khett.

It was a quick matter to review the passenger list checking for familiar names and faces. Garak still had a great number of enemies, and it would not pay to get lazy. He would have Niyak run background checks on them all as well before they arrived and go over those as well. There was a Vulcan doctor; a handful of Betazoids; a Tellerite doctor, that could be an issue, Garak would have to advise Pralla to speak to him; several Terrans- Bashir. The name glared up at him from the PADD, Bashir, Julian. 

Garak leaned back in his chair desperately trying to reorder his thought to make some sense of this. Doctor Bashir was arriving on Cardassia today on a civilian aid transport. Garak turned to the terminal in his office checking through his messages, already knowing what he would find. No new messages. Bashir was coming to Cardassia Prime and hadn’t told him. Had he hoped that Garak would never find out? Or, was this his Terran concept of a ‘happy surprise’ again? Garak hoped it was the latter. 

Niyak could run her own background checks on the others later, this could not wait. Garak needed answers. He needed to know what Bashir was doing as part of a civilian aid project. It was little issue to find his records. Honestly, if Starfleet really wanted to keep their information private you would think they would secure it better. 

Resigned. The Doctor had allegedly resigned his commission. Garak wasn’t sure how much stock to put in that. Official records rarely reflected the truth of the matter. Doctor Bashir had a great deal of his personal identity tied to his position in Starfleet. After the reveal about his genetic enhancements Bashir had been so obviously terrified at the idea of being discharged. The idea that he would give that up willingly was one that Garak wasn’t sure he was ready to believe. 

There was the question of Section 31. Sure, Bashir had never told Garak about his run-ins with the organization, had never even mentioned that they happened, but Garak had once been one of the top most agents of the Obsidian Order. He would have to be a fool indeed to not notice when Section 31 was up to something about the station. The Doctor had been so obviously and deeply shaken, his discomfort growing with each incident. He’d deleted that ridiculous spy program of his after that business on Romulus. Had it been Section 31 that had forced Bashir out of Starfleet? 

Whatever the answer was, Garak would not find it in this office. 

XXXX

Garak stood in the starport his hands clasped behind his back. Next to him Pralla was making an obvious effort not to fidget sneaking glances at Garak from the corner of his eye. Garak hadn’t told him why exactly he was accompanying him on what was largely a routine job. He resisted the urge to smile. While Garak might just be a simple civil servant these days sometimes it was amusing to see the fear he could still inspire. He would let Pralla worry, maybe it would increase his productivity this rotation. 

The intercom announced that the ship had docked and was beginning offloading. Garak straightened. Slowly passengers began to exit; Pralla stepping away to greet them, but Garak didn’t pay any mind. Pralla knew to do his job well enough that he didn’t need supervision, no, Garak’s eyes were locked on the passengers. 

There he was, a wide grin on his face as he tipped his head back in a laugh walking with a young Betazoid woman. Garak could see the exact moment Bashir noticed him, his steps faltered, his smile falling as he froze. He leaned down whispering something to the woman before he stepped away from the group towards Garak. Pralla cast them a perplexed look, but didn’t say anything when Garak didn’t object. The shock was fading from the Doctor’s face replaced by fond eyes and a small smile. For a moment Garak could almost imagine Bashir was walking over to join him at their lunch table. He had missed that look. 

“I suppose I should have known better than to think I could surprise you.” 

Julian smiled setting down his bag at his feet and Garak took the opportunity to take him in. He looked good: his skin darker and golden like he’d been under something other than artificial lights lately; he’d grown out a short beard, Garak had never seen him with anything more than light stubble; and there was the barest hint of gray at his temples and through his beard. Doctor Bashir’s sense of style hadn’t seemed to improve a bit either. Garak might never have thought much of Starfleet’s uniforms, but at least they prevented something like this. Whoever had told Bashir that that shade of orange was acceptable to wear was a criminal of the highest degree. Worst of all was that Garak found the whole appearance incredibly endearing. His sentimentality was getting worse with age apparently. 

“I’ve never been fond of surprises,” Garak softened, a small smile turning up the corner of his lips, “but this is certainly not the worst surprise I could receive.” 

That brought a grin to Bahsir’s lips. He still smiled the same. “It’s good to see you Garak. You look good. You grew out your hair.”

Garak had. It reached a little past his shoulders tied into a low tail at the base of his neck. It was both for fashion and practicality. Longer hair could easily be tied back into place without expensive oils or gels that were harder to come by now. He also flattered himself to think that it rather suited him. 

“Well, you know I do so love to keep up with the latest fashion. You should try it.” He gave Bashir a cheeky look. “It’s good to see you as well, my dear Doctor.”

“Julian, just Julian.” 

That brought Garak up short. Bashir had insisted before, at the beginning of their friendship, that Garak use his given name, but that had been before he had known the intimacy of the gesture. Garak had brushed him off easily, and he had learned. He hadn’t made the request since, not until now at least. Garak took what he thought was the safest option, changing the subject. 

“Out of uniform I see.” 

Bashir shrugged a rueful look on his face as he ran a hand down his truly atrocious shirt. “I found it didn’t fit me as well as it once did.”

“Anything I could do to help? I might not be in the career anymore, but a good tailor tries to keep up with the skill.” If it had been Section 31 that had forced Bashir out of Starfleet then Garak would do whatever he was able to fix the situation for him. It was the very least he could do for the good Doctor. Guls knew he owned the man a hundred times over. 

“No,” Julian shook his head but there was a smile on his face. “No, sometimes it’s better to let old things go. Besides, I think I’m starting to come around to your opinion. The uniforms were rather drab.” 

“And you are so fond of color.” Garak gave Julian’s outfit a disparaging look. He was happy though, to hear that this choice had been Bashir’s own. 

Bashir gave a loud unrestrained laugh that sent a flutter of happiness through his stomach. Garak could feel the looks from Pralla. 

“I have missed you Garak.” 

Bashir raised a hand out to him, palm out, his face hopeful. Garak hesitated only a moment before meeting him in the gesture. 

“How long will you be here?” 

“That depends.”

“On?”

“A lot of things.” 

Bashir cast a significant glance to their hands. The gesture had gone on longer than was strictly polite for friends at this point. Garak didn’t pull away. Pralla’s eyes were definitely on them now. His heart was racing.

“We live in a very different future.” Bashir’s face was more hesitant now, cautious. The implication was obvious; that didn’t make it any less hard to believe. Bashir couldn’t really mean that he was simply here for Garak? 

“Aid organizations don’t stay in one place forever,” Garak put forth.

“I’m only a volunteer, I have career mobility. I can leave whenever I want. Look for work elsewhere. I hear doctors are in high demand here.” There was a twinkle in Bashir’s eyes now that Garak hadn’t turned him down outright, hadn’t even moved away his hand.

“But you-“ Garak found himself floundering. Didn’t the Doctor realize everything he was giving up? What he was committing himself to? 

“Garak,” Bashir cut him off. “I’ve thought about this, a lot. I know what I’m signing up for.” 

Bashir’s hand pressed firmer against his, fingers pressing against the seams of his own. He took a moment taking in the determined hope in the Doctor’s bright eyes before Garak accepted interlacing their fingers together. It sent a thrill through him to see how perfectly their hands fit together. It was a surreal sight. One Garak had been sure he would never see. There was a wide, sunny grin on Bash- Julian’s lips and Garak couldn’t help returning it. 

“This is most certainly not what I was expecting when I came to meet you.”

“I thought Cardassians didn’t believe in happy surprises.” Julian responses cheekily. Garak resisted the urge to roll his eyes, a bad habit he’d picked up while on the station. 

“Why would someone be happy about something they couldn’t see coming?” 

“Are you saying you saw this coming then?”

“Of course,” Garak huffed. It was a bad lie, but being believed wasn’t the point. Julian laughed and Garak felt a surge of satisfaction. 

“We’re scandalizing my aid right now.” Garak smirked, glancing at Pralla from the corner of his eye who was now unabashedly staring. 

Julian made an undignified snort holding in a laugh as he glanced back over his shoulder. “Well, he had just better get used to it, cause I’m not going anywhere.” 

Garak couldn’t help it, staring up at Julian’s bright, joyful face set such a powerful feeling burning in his chest. He stepped forward his free hand coming up to cup Julian’s cheek pulling him into a soft, slow kiss. Let them all be scandalized.


End file.
